


Communal Bloodstone Circles

by cutthroatpixie



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Ficlet Collection, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reincarnation, Spoilers, cecil has questionable tattoo choices, science pick up lines, the scientists ship cecil/carlos so hard, totally unsubtle references to other things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-25
Updated: 2013-12-07
Packaged: 2018-01-02 14:51:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1058087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutthroatpixie/pseuds/cutthroatpixie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short stories set in everyone's favourite little desert town.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Little More Alcohol (to Catalyse this Reaction)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlos and his scientists all go out drinking. Many shenanigans and bad science pick up lines ensue.

Cecil’s phone had been buzzing on and off for the past half hour. Normally he would just answer it, maybe send a few texts during sponsorship ads, but Station Management had been making irritated noises from behind their office door all evening and he didn’t want to test their already thin patience.

That and whenever he tried to pick up the phone, it screamed and scuttled away from him.

Technology, right?

After signing off for the night and assuring his phone he meant it no harm, he was able to check who all the missed calls and texts were from.

 **Carlos the Boyfriend:**  your the obiwan for me  
 **Carlos the Boyfriend:**  me as in your boyfriedn  
 **Carlos the Boyfriend:**  this istotally carlos  
 **Carlos the Boyfriend:**  is it just me or was thta the best pik up line ever?

That was… interesting. The texts had apparently stopped for awhile after that, as the next set were time stamped 20 minutes later.

 **Carlos the Boyfriend:**  i’ve got my ion you baby ;)

There was another lag between that text and the next set, which proved to be a little less decipherable than the ones before it.

 **Carlos the Boyfriend:**  that wan ne  
 **Carlos the Boyfriend:**  me  
 **Carlos the Boyfriend:**  ignore ten

Perplexed as to why Carlos apparently wanted him to ignore a perfectly respectable, if commonplace and altogether unremarkable, number, Cecil checked his voicemails to see if those made at least a little more sense than the texts.

”Cecil!” A bubbly, feminine, definitely-non-Carlos voice crackled through the phone line. Either a crowd was in the background or whoever it was really liked to listen to _Indistinguishable Voices from Beyond Pt. III_ , as they were clearly shouting to be heard over the noise. “According to my research.” She paused to giggle. “There is a certain seismologist over here who would definitely like to recreate the Big Bang with you.”

She sounded like she was going to continue, but a cry of, “Give me that!” was the last thing his voicemail picked up before the line went dead.

"I do keep telling him to change the password on his phone," Cecil said to himself. "Numerical passwords, who uses those anymore?"

Another text came through and Cecil tabbed over to read it.

 **Carlos the Boyfriend:**  weare odfkkig up another earthwyake

He waited for a moment, just to see if he could actually feel this one. Nope. Worth a try, though! He tapped out a reply.

 **Cecil:**  My show is over, but if you need me to alert the town tomorrow I am more than happy to! They do love putting in those insurance claims.  
 **Carlos the Boyfriend:**  we mastured a 5>8  
 **Carlos the Boyfriend:**  buy that decent mattr  
 **Cecil:**  Is that so?  
 **Carlos the Boyfriend:**  yah  
 **Carlos the Boyfriend:**  BECAME yur a ten ;d

It took Cecil a minute, but as soon as he was able to figure out what the hell it was Carlos was texting him, he had to quickly stifle a laugh and make an exit out of the radio station before he disturbed Station Management (any more than he usually did, anyway).

Thankfully when Cecil called, it was actually Carlos who answered the phone.

"They dared me," he slurred out immediately upon answering the call.

"That is one of the sweetest and most hilarious things you have ever said to me," Cecil replied. "I’m guessing a certain somebody is going to need me to take their drunken self home?"

"Eh, Wanda is pret— oh you mean me."

"Of course I mean you, darling."

Somebody shouted, “You two gonna make some aftershocks tonight?” and Cecil could almost hear Carlos blush on the other end of the line.

He wished he could only  _almost_  hear when Carlos hollered back, “Shut up, you guys!” without taking the phone away from his mouth.

"Well, now that you’ve made that delightful ringing in my ears return, I’m going to hang up so I can come fetch you."

He made good on his word and hung up after someone else called out, “You should ask Cecil if he wants to compare resonant frequencies with you.”


	2. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It feels like falling in love for the first time

A glance.

A glance and a smile, directed at no one in particular (directed at you), is all it takes for your soul to sing with delight. With recognition, even if your eyes, your mind, do not experience the same familiarity. Not quite memories bubble just below the surface (of a hand in yours, of that very same smile, looking right at you, of lips on hair, different hair, still gleaming with that same perfection).

And you know.

You don’t know.

You think maybe, possibly, you might know something, somewhere. You just aren’t sure what that is. You aren’t sure it even matters at this moment.

Your heart pounds. Your cheeks flush. You don’t even stop to think about what this is— that much is clear.

You’ll say (later, earlier, right now; again and again yet only once) that you fell in love instantly, but that’s not really what this is. You were already in love, in a love draped in the haze that comes hand-in-hand with a new life, but in love nonetheless. You don’t realise, perhaps you never will (this time, anyway), but this is simply a reunion. A new meeting, just another in a stream of eons.


	3. Wingscientists

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlos may not have heard the radio his first day of town, but the rest of the scientists on his team sure did.

They were still unpacking boxes and setting up the lab when the whispering and muffled giggles had started. Carlos didn’t think anything of it; probably some inside joke or gossip that didn’t involve him.

Or did involve him. Were they glancing his way as they laughed? They definitely were. Was there something on his face…?

He shook his head and went back to the box he was currently sifting through. If it was anything important, they’d let him know.

"Hello, is this Mr. Palmer?" Cambria, one of the research assistants, was in the corner with her phone pressed to her ear. Carlos had no idea who Mr. Palmer was, but he doubted the call was a very private one, considering how she wasn’t even trying to be discreet. "I’m with the new team of scientists… oh yes,  _that_  team of scientists. I just thought you might like to know we’ll be holding a town meeting later. Since you’re a reporter of sorts. Of course all of us will be there! Please do. Oh, we are all very excited to meet the rest of the town. Thank you sir, I’ll keep that in mind. Have a nice day!”

The second she hung up, she rushed over to Carlos. “Make sure you bring your business cards,” was all she said before she went over to join the team of (totally not working) scientists on the other side of the room.

—-

Later that day, Carlos stood before the people of Night Vale and announced just why he and the team had come to study Night Vale. He didn’t know why the team had chosen him to be their spokesperson— he wasn’t necessarily the one in charge, nor was he the best at public speaking by far. But Carlos had been the only one to protest when the suggestion was made by their plant and soil specialist (Eli might have been his name. Carlos was still getting all of them down.). The meeting seemed to go well, overall, and he hadn’t fumbled over his words too much, so he didn’t mind.

What happened after he was done speaking was a little weird, though.

"Carlos, come here." Cambria pushed her way through the crowd of people she had been mingling with and grabbed Carlos’ arm the second she reached him. "There is somebody over here you have to— oh no! Where’d he go?" She looked around for a moment before flagging down another of the scientists. "Dr. Sotello, did you see where the radio host went?"

Dr. Sotello did not know where “the radio host” went, nor did the old woman passing out cornbread, nor any of the other people Cambria asked. She seemed very upset by this, for reasons Carlos could not understand.

"You should call him later." She shoved a business card into Carlos’ hands. "He’ll want to know if we find out anything. So he can announce it on the show, of course."

"Right." Carlos shoved the card into his pocket and went to join the rest of his team as they went to survey one of the nearby neighbourhoods.

—-

"It’s not… huh." Carlos and the rest of the team had been running tests around a housing development and so far it appeared that one of them just. Wasn’t there. Photographs showed the houses on either side of it, but a large, empty patch of land where the middle house should have been standing. Their infrared camera had much the same results, showing absolutely nothing on screen for the house they all so clearly saw with their own eyes. They’d run a sonar scan as well, which seemed only to agree with their cameras on the fact that no object was standing where that house seemed to be.

"We should alert somebody about this." Dr. Verma gave Carlos a sly grin and he really didn’t understand the joke, but there must have been one because everyone else suddenly adopted the same look. "Maybe you should call the radio station, Carlos. You have the number, right?"

"Uh. Yeah. I think so." He pulled the now slightly crumpled business card out of his pocket, along with his cell phone. The name across the front read  _Cecil G. Palmer, Radio Host_. “Aren’t there any specialists in town we should talk to? Maybe at the community college?”

He was met with a chorus of people talking over one another, all insisting that he call this Cecil person, that he would get the word out, that they didn’t have contact numbers for any other important people in Night Vale yet.

He called the number on the card, which was simply listed as the station number and not a direct line.

"You’ve reached the Night Vale Community Radio Station. This is Intern Esteban speaking, how can I help you?"

"Oh, hello." Carlos suddenly realised everyone was watching him intently and turned to look the other way. God, they sure were acting weird today. "This is Carlos? I’m calling for—"

"Oooh, you’re that scientist. Hold on a sec, I’ll get Cecil."

There was a soft click, as if the phone had just been set down, and then the faint sound of voices. “He’s getting Cecil,” Carlos told the group. “Maybe you could all stop staring at me and run some more tests or something?”

They all scattered and started daring one another to knock on the there-but-not house, just in time for Cecil to answer the phone.

—-

When their monitors indicated wild seismic shifts that were not being felt even slightly by the people of Night Vale, the scientists insisted Carlos be the one to call Cecil. When the sun failed to set at the time it should have, four phones were shoved in Carlos’ direction (since he had misplaced his own).

They just laughed and waved him off when he hung up after that one, asking what everyone was murmuring about as they all sat around in a circle around one of the desk clocks.

"Why don’t you go down to the station and test for materials?" A chorus of agreement met Dr. Sydorenko’s suggestion. "You got some weird radiation readings when we were at that house, yeah? Should go test some other buildings around here, see what you get."

Carlos gathered up the necessary supplies and prepared to head over to the radio station after getting directions from Cambria.

When he returned later, after fleeing from the highly radioactive deathtrap that was the Night Vale Community Radio Station, he came into the lab just in time to hear a familiar voice say, “Carlos looked nervous,” over the radio. The team had obviously continued with their favourite pastime of Giggling and Murmuring About Things, but one of them flipped the radio off as soon as they took notice of Carlos.

"Get those readings you were looking for?" one of them asked.

"I don’t know how anyone in that building is still alive," Carlos answered. "What were you all listening to?"

Cambria kicked the scientists closest to her when they began to laugh. “Just some local radio, that’s all. We’ll get back to work now.”

Carlos decided it was best not to ask, at least for now. Though he would have to start tuning in to the radio, since it appeared to be so popular around here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> btw if anyone ever wants to find me on tumblr, my username is cutthroatpixie! most of my wtnv stuff so far has been written because of prompts I got so feel free to leave some for when I am in a writing mood :)


	4. Coded Messages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Earl and Cecil work on their Subversive Radio Host badge. Minor spoilers for Missing.

As part of the requirements for their Subversive Radio Host badge, all the Boy Scouts of Night Vale were practicing the art of writing and deciphering coded messages. When the time came for revolution, they were told, it would be vital that they reach as many of the people they needed to as possible, without alerting those they did not. Rebellion was an art more potent than simple literary analysis or poetry writing (though that was, of course, as much necessary for stimulating a growing mind as it was mandatory one week a year), a science more grim than even the least humorous of comedians, and an all around good skill to have for any young Night Vale citizen, prophesied radio host or not.

The deciphering, of course, proved to be more difficult than the writing, though that may have been because it was difficult to understand a message the writer himself could not even comprehend.

"The sparrow flies at dawn?" Cecil read the message Earl had scraped into sidewalk outside his house. "That means… are _you_ doing something at dawn?"

Earl shook his head. “No. The sparrow is supposed to be… oh shoot, what was the sparrow again?”

Cecil laughed and scrubbed at the message with the bottom of his shoe, effectively blending the words so nobody else would be able to read them. It was simply foolish to leave any trace of renegade behaviour, after all. “We’ll get the hang of this eventually! We’ll have to or… you know.”

"I know."

"Maybe it’s easier when you’re actually broadcasting messages. See if you can read mine, then we’ll try again."

Earl found the message easily enough (though not as easily as last time, Cecil was pleased to note), carefully stitched inside a hidden pocket of his school bag.

In the dead of night, when even the Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives in Your Home is tucked into the questionably safe field of dreams, you crack your door open to find a green ribbon. It is frayed, worn from years of braids and nervous hands. It is yours, you know, but you do not know from where. Because you have never worn it.

Earl’s brow furrowed in confusion as he read the message. After setting fire to the thread and successfully extinguishing the flame only once the letters were no longer intelligible, he turned to an excited looking Cecil and said, “You have an uninvited guest over or something?”

Cecil shook his head. “No! Thankfully.”

Earl thought it over for a moment. Then he sighed and knocked his shoulder against Cecil’s. “This doesn’t mean anything, you nerd. You just thought it sounded cool.”

"That’s important, though. Right?" Cecil grinned and nudged Earl’s shoulder back, just hard enough to throw him off balance. "Secret messages should definitely sound cool."

"But they have to mean something."

"We’ll work on that later. Didn’t you have something else we could work on anyway? Something about a phone?"

Earl nodded and before Cecil could question him any further, he was dragging him by the elbow, down the sidewalk and through town, towards the radio station.


	5. Youthful Rebellion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're only nineteen once. 
> 
> Usually.

The morning after his eighteenth birthday, Cecil awoke as if he had never slept at all. Upon checking the calendar that oh so helpfully burnt out the dates of times gone by, he found that it was actually five days after his birthday, he was horribly late for work, and he had apparently been accepted to Sweet Valley University, though he had no recollection of ever applying nor did he even know where such a place was.

That, however, is a story for another time. The morning after Cecil's nineteenth birthday, he found himself waking up on what was actually the chronological morning after (if you happened to believe in things like chronology). He definitely had pain receptors, at least on his lower back, and he was most decidedly passed out on a couch that was not his own (he knew so because his couch was very much against being slept on and he would have awoken stuck to the ceiling if he'd made that mistake again).

"Before you see it," said a currently disembodied voice that sounded very much like Earl Harlan. It sounded enough like him, in fact, that it most likely was him, but Cecil was of the opinion that one should never assume such things. He did have a dishtowel that was quite fond of doing imitations, after all.

Cecil blinked when Earl (and not a floating dishtowel) came into view. "Cecil? You alright?"

"Uh."

"I was saying. Well. Before you see it, I just want you to know that I told you not to and you said you were feeling "rebellious" and there was nothing I could do to stop you."

"See it?"

"The tattoo."

Well that explained the back pain. "What did I get? Oh wow. You know I've always wanted one, I just never knew what to get! What did I get? Does it do any cool tricks?"

"Shoots lasers, apparently. You nearly caught the car on fire when I was trying to bring you home last night."

"Neat!" Earl laughed a little and Cecil realised that was maybe not the proper reaction. "I mean. Sorry about your car. I know it's not really a fan of being on fire."

"It'll get over it." Earl nudged at Cecil's legs and he took the hint, sitting up so Earl could be seated next to him. "There are flames as well."

"In your car? Oh no, I'm so sorry, should I go talk to them, I don—"

"On your tattoo. There are flames."

"Ooooh." Cecil leaned his head back, realised he was not one of those talented few who could twist their heads all the way around, and settled for asking Earl more questions instead. "Not real, I'm guessing. Since I'm not on fire or anything. So I got flames that shoot lasers? Not the most creative, that's for sure, but wow."

"That's not all. I'm not sure how to... I took a picture. It's really something you have to see for yourself."

Cecil was absolutely delighted. Enchanted, even. "You took a picture?! Why didn't you say so in the first place?"

"You'll see." Earl hesitated, just long enough for Cecil to notice it, and then pulled a Polaroid out of his jacket pocket. "Just remember that I was not in any way for this particular design choice. It was all you."

Cecil took the photograph and looked over every detail of the somewhat blurry image. There were the flames, flickering emerald green and a deep, royal purple. Beams of white and yellow shot upwards, contrasting starkly against his dark skin and tapering off as they reached toward the middle of his back. Drops of— blood? slime? dripped and oozed, disappearing into the waistline of his shorts.

But at the center of it all, right along his spine, was a glistening, almost-mouth-watering-in-the-amount-of-detail-the-image-displayed... ham.

"I don't believe you for a minute, Earl Harlan," he finally said. "Green is your favourite colour."

Earl just stared at him for a moment. He stared back, of course, because Cecil never turned down a staring contest. He won (again) when Earl started laughing. "You caught me."

"You know you can't keep anything from me." Earl looked doubtful, then worried. No... concerned. Then he just rolled his eyes and Cecil didn't think more on whatever had been crossing his friend's face.

"A ham, though?"

"It's not really kosher at all, is it?" Cecil looked at the image again. The lasers flashed to a soft pink and he wondered how far he'd have to lean back to see those things in action. "You did say I was feeling rebellious."

"You said that, actually. Multiple times."

"It happens. You're only nineteen once, I suppose. Usually."

"Usually," Earl agreed. "If you're feeling a little less rebellious, I made some of that ostrich bacon you like."

"Who can really measure rebellion? More, less, does it really mean anything?"

Earl threw a pillow at him. So. That settled that one. Maybe.

(Cecil was still definitely going to figure out that whole head twisting thing. Later. After breakfast. Most assuredly.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was inspired by a prompt that was inspired by one of those 2 am conversations where you aren't drunk, but you have definitely been drinking.


End file.
